Devil In Disguise
by Frohike
Summary: Mulder gets "all shook up" after considering a bid on a priceless rock and roll artifact.


Devil In Disguise  
Author: Frohike  
Email: frohike51@aol.com  
Rating: PG-13  
Distribution: Anywhere you'd like, but please ask first so I know where it's going.  
Feedback: Yes, yes, yes!! Good, bad or indifferent, it's all cherished. 

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Alex Krycek belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, FOX Broadcasting, etc, etc. Elvis Presley belongs to rock and roll fans everywhere. Sears, Jailhouse Rock, Poor Boy, TBS, Pepsi and any other names you recognize that I've forgotten to mention here, belong to their respective owners and are used with nothing but respectful intent. 

Many thanks to Phil for not only putting this insane idea in my head at 2 in the morning when I was trying to bore myself to sleep, but for creating a kickass manip to go along with the story. I would have included the link, but apparently the site it's on triggers a gag order here on fanfiction.net. Send me an email after you've read the story and I'll be happy to send the link directly. It's totally G-rated, I promise!

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You look like an angel  
Walk like an angel  
Talk like an angel  
But I got wise  
You're the devil in disguise  
(from Devil In Disguise--music and lyrics by Giant, Baum and Kaye) 

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Mulder swallowed his bite of sandwich just as she picked up the phone. "Hey Scully."

Scully yawned, rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. 2:45? "Mulder is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you a question."

"It's been a really long week, this couldn't have waited until morning?"

"No, bidding closes in twenty minutes."

She rolled over onto her back and yawned again. "Bidding on what?"

"Listen to this. This guy has an actual tooth and a lock of hair from the head of one Elvis Aaron Presley. Everything has been authenticated; it's the real deal, Scully."

Scully scrunched up her face and shook her head. "Tell me you didn't wake me up to ask if you should spend money on Elvis's body parts." She paused. "You're watching the Elvis Presley movie marathon on TBS, aren't you?"

"Does that surprise you?" He took another bite of his sandwich.

"No. What are you eating?"

"Fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

"That's disgusting! How many sandwiches?"

"Three. Why?"

"Good lord, Mulder. Do you realize that you've just ingested 108 grams of fat? I can hear your arteries hardening as we speak."

"You know, Scully, it scares me just a little that you know the exact amount of fat grams contained in my sandwich. Now about the tooth and lock of hair? What do you think?"

"What's the asking price?" she sighed.

"Right now it's at $100,100."

Scully sat bolt upright in her bed. "Say that again, because I thought I heard you say $100,100 and inheritance or no inheritance, I know you can't possibly be considering putting out that kind of money for hair and a tooth."

"Not just any tooth, Scully. This is the King's tooth we're talking about. A piece of rock and roll history. Just think about it. Years from now, we could extract DNA from the tooth or from a strand of his hair and bring the King back to life. We could return music to the days when rock and roll meant something!"

There was a brief moment of silence on the line, followed by a burst of laughter. "Damn it, Mulder!"

Mulder grinned. "Had you big time, Scully."

"Yeah, you did," she admitted. "You know this means war, don't you?"

"Oooh, I'm scared."

"You should be. Have I ever told you about the Scully curse?"

"Oh no, is it that time already? I thought we still had another two weeks to go."

"I'm going to try and forget you just said that." She raised her hand to her mouth to cover yet another yawn. "It's not wise to cross a Scully woman; just remember that. Oh, don't forget we're having lunch with mom tomorrow. I'll call before I leave here."

"I'll be ready,"

"I'm going back to sleep now. Say goodnight, Mulder."

"Goodnight, Mulder."

Jailhouse Rock was momentarily interrupted by a commercial for power tools from Sears, so Mulder took that opportunity to take his plate into the kitchen. He tossed the plate into the sink, along with the frying pan, threw the banana peels into the trash can and put the peanut butter back in the cabinet. Deciding that was enough housework for one day, he returned to the living room and nestled back onto the couch.

Elvis sang Poor Boy as Mulder began to drift off. "Scully curse," he snickered, before finally falling asleep.

The front door crashed open. Pendrell called out for Mulder, who had nearly fallen off of his couch, as he reached for his weapon.

"Thank God you're here, Agent Mulder," he said. "Remember that little project you had me working on?"

Mulder put his weapon back down on the table. "Was it successful?"

"Well, yes and no," Pendrell answered. "Something went wrong somewhere along the line. I think the DNA was tampered with. I'm not so sure you're going to be all that pleased with the results. By the way," he added, handing Mulder a bag. "Here's the tooth and the hair sample you gave me."

Mulder accepted the bag and tossed it on the table. "What do you mean, tampered with?"

Pendrell shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You'll see in a just a minute. He's down in the car. I'll go get him."

Mulder paced excitedly. His dream was coming to fruition. Maybe it wouldn't be exactly the way he'd planned, but surely any minor kinks could be worked out. He couldn't wait to see what Pendrell had accomplished.

He heard their footsteps in the hall, but fought the urge to rush to the door. A camera would have been nice, he thought. Oh well, there'd be plenty of time for pictures later.

"Go right in through there," Pendrell said. He had no intention of stepping back into Mulder's apartment and was eyeing the still open elevator door, trying to decide just how fast he could sprint down the hall. Speed was going to be of the essence once Mulder saw the product of his labor. He wondered if Scully would be the one to do his autopsy, if his feet failed him.

Mulder saw the shadow in his doorway and felt stupid for not having turned on a light. The figure in the doorway must have though the same thing; he reached out and flipped the switch, illuminating the room.

"What the hell?" Mulder exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock and surprise. "PENDRELL!"

Pendrell crashed into the elevator doors just as they were closing. He shoved his hands in between the doors, forced them open, and hurled himself inside.

The figure struck a pose. "How ya doin' Mulder?"

Mulder took in the sight before him, not quite sure how to respond. The man was dressed in a black and white t-shirt, with black pants and a matching black jacket. The very outfit worn by Elvis in Jailhouse Rock. Only this wasn't quite Elvis. The hair was right, the build looked right, but the face. The face was entirely wrong.

"Krycek," he hissed. "How the hell?"

"Yessir, I'm a Krycek, but not the one you think. Allow me to introduce myself." He struck a performance pose before continuing. "I'm Elvis," he said, while swinging his arm around as if to do a wide strum on an imaginary guitar. "Alex." Another wide sweep on the air guitar. "Krycek." Big finishing sweep followed by yet another patented Presley pose. 

Mulder's mouth hung open. "This is not happening."

Elvis Krycek's nose twitched as he sniffed the air. "Is that a peanut butter and nanner sandwich I'm smellin'?"

"Uh, yeah," Mulder answered.

"I sure could use a little sustenance about now. Think I could get me one of those?"

Mulder, still not quite being able to grasp what was going on in front of him, simply nodded and pointed to the kitchen.

The Elvis/Krycek clone smiled and nodded his head. "Thank you, thank you very much."

Mulder followed the man into the kitchen and watched as he opened doors and cabinets. Elvis/Krycek, Mulder wasn't sure what to call him, located all the necessary items and set about making one massive peanut butter and banana sandwich.

"You want one?" the man asked Mulder.

Mulder held up both hands and shook his head. The man nodded again and set the sandwich afloat in the sea of butter sizzling in the frying pan. 

Elvis Alex Krycek. EAK. The initials sum it up, Mulder decided. He went out to the couch and sat down, leaving EAK to finish preparing his meal.

A short time later, EAK came out of the kitchen, wiping his mouth on the back of his right sleeve and carrying a can of Pepsi in his left hand. 

"Hope you don't mind me grabbing a Pepsi," he said.

"No, that's. . .no," Mulder answered.

EAK took another swig from the can, then put it on the table. He sat sideways on the couch next to Mulder and as he did, Mulder noticed the distinctive Presley facial tic. He also noted that instead of being blue, this man's eyes were a lovely shade of green.

"So, I hear you have plans for me," EAK said.

Mulder, still distracted by the tic and the green-that-should-be-blue eyes, didn't realize that he'd been spoken to.

The man touched Mulder's knee, causing Mulder to jump. "Didn't mean to scare you. Somethin' wrong with my face?"

"Yes, I, I mean no," Mulder stammered. "I mean, they're supposed to be blue. I'm sorry, did you say something?"

EAK shrugged. "Yeah, I said I hear you have plans for me."

"I do. I mean I did."

"You know, you're kinda cute when you get all flustered like that. Your eyes do this flashy thing. It's kinda sexy."

Confused, Mulder sat there and tried to figure out what EAK was trying to say and why he'd just slipped his right hand under the jacket's left sleeve. His eyes went wide as EAK slowly pulled a long, white silk scarf from inside the sleeve.

"Pretty little thing, isn't it," EAK said, as he wound the silk scarf around his hands. He leaned forward and started to drape the scarf around Mulder's neck. "Feels soft on the skin," he whispered, as he lifted one corner and brushed it lightly against Mulder's cheek.

Mulder screamed inside his head. RUN! But found himself unable to move.

EAK slowly began to wrap the scarf around and around Mulder's neck. "Ever try a little auto-erotic asphyxiation action, Mulder?" 

The phone rang, startling Mulder awake. He sat quickly, dripping with sweat and somewhat disoriented. His hand went to his neck and found nothing but stubble. The answering machine picked up before he had a chance to make his way to the phone.

"Mulder? I know you're there. Pick up."

He turned off the machine and grabbed the receiver. "Scully?"

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Scully sighed. "Lunch with my mother. Remember? We talked about this less than eight hours ago."

"Oh, right, lunch. Yeah, I need a shower, but I'll be ready by the time you get here."

"You sound like you didn't get much sleep Mulder."

"No, and it's your fault, Scully."

"My fault?"

"You and that damned Scully curse."

Scully laughed. "There is no curse, Mulder. Maybe it was everything you ate. Bad dreams?"

Mulder shuddered. "Let's just say that I've eaten my last fried peanut butter and banana sandwich."


End file.
